Shadowed Inheritance: Consortium Origin Tales

Act One—In the Beginning

Chapter One

EARLY ON, I LEARNED my parents named me Raven for the deep black hair I was born with. They must have made an excellent decision, as my hair got darker, the older I grew. Today, it has a blue/black sheen that reminds me of a raven’s feathers. I like my name so much that I decorated my room with everything related to ravens. I have Raven stuffies all over, watching, protecting, and keeping me safe, even as I watch them watching me.

I never thought of asking myself why I like Ravens the way I do; beyond that, they are my namesake. It wasn’t until my brother asked me that caused me to think about it. Normally, I dress in black, which offsets my pale white skin. I enjoy wearing black. I thought the contrast of black and white was a beautiful depiction of the darkness in my soul and the gentle, loving part that made me—me. As I grew older, I had Mum and Dad get me more and longer Victorian-style dresses. Mum tried to get me to expand my wardrobe, but I rarely wore anything she got that didn’t meet my approval. After a time, she gave up trying to change me. After that, we got along just fine.

That’s who I am. I know myself very well, and I make no bones about it. Mum reminded me that dinnertime was approaching, and I needed to prepare. I put my tablet down and fixed my makeup. Yes, Mum wished I would wait until I got older to wear makeup, but I knew my daddy liked it, so he won that battle.

Without fail, our family had dinner together every evening. It never changed, no matter what the day held for Mum or Dad, especially for our father. Of course, my brother and I had no say in the matter. That’s just the way it was.

Our dining room was large and ornate. The dining room had more chairs than necessary for just the four of us. Sometimes, our parent’s business guests occupied all the chairs around the dining table. Neither of them required us to sit elsewhere whenever they entertained dinner guests. I suppose they wanted us to learn the ways of business and political exchange.

My brother and I would sit next to Mum and Dad. Naturally, I sat on Daddy’s right hand. Everyone knew I had him wrapped around my little finger. I could get him to do or agree to anything I wanted, although I presumed he knew that, too. They taught us to sit straight and observe proper etiquette. Mum said we would need it when we ran the roost and entertained large groups of business associates. Mostly, as I was the oldest, I would be in charge, and my brother would always be there for me. So, we set an example and tone for dinner. Boys! My brother only wanted to know what we would eat. Me? I liked meat. I mean, I really liked meat, especially when roasted over an open flame and not overcooked. Be it lamb, pork, beef, or some other animal flesh, I loved the sound of the meat sizzling when first thrown on the grill. The burning sizzle reminds me of the animals screaming as the heat scorches their living flesh. Is it time to eat yet?

Everything we had was of the highest quality. Mum insisted on importing European linens and embroidering them with silk threads and lace. The fine-stemmed Waterford crystal-leaded goblets and glassware came from Ireland and had signed bottoms emblazoned with our family crest. There were several sets of beautiful porcelain china, individually wrapped from Germany. Mum loved using beautiful things. But the things she loved the most were the silver pieces. Her gaze was as shiny as the silver when she looked at them. Raven loved to pick up the place settings and look intensely at them. The most curious thing was that the place settings all had the initials of our last name embossed on them.

Daddy was late for dinner tonight. We all sat around waiting for him as the serving staff kept dinner on hold until his arrival. It wouldn’t be the first time, and likely not the last time, he would arrive late for dinner. We were all kinda used to it. The chef made us a small treat that would hold us over until Daddy walked through the door. Well, Daddy being late again annoyed me, and I’m sure it annoyed my brother, too. We could all be doing something else. As for Mum, on these evenings, she was always jittery. My brother and I tried to keep her in a good mood. To offset the tension in the room, we would ask each other silly questions like, Would you rather be a python or a truck driver? They did not laugh but looked at me kinda funny. The three of us would answer something different that no one cared about. Or we would talk about our classes at school. We went to a private school and had tutors come to our estate for the extreme studies we would need in the future. My brother learned several languages while I focused on whatever interested me.

Then, the French doors to the dining room opened wide as Daddy walked in. With his broad shoulders, he always seemed so tall to us. He had dark hair, but not black. It was his eyes that always captured my attention. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. In Daddy’s case, it was hard to see his soul. I tried many times to see what was going on in there, but every time I tried, I felt myself falling into a deep, dark crevice of pain and excitement. I didn’t understand what I saw in them, but I knew I would one day. Otherwise, his eyes were an unusual shade of green. But they were usually dark blackish green when he was late for dinner. That was when I noticed Mum would always be as sweet as possible to him.

His attire was always impeccable, with starched shirt, cufflinks, and pressed trousers. He had many suits, shirts, and shoes. I had been in his wardrobe room before, so I knew what clothes he preferred. Tonight, he was wearing a gray pinstripe suit. There were many shades of his gray suits. He also had a couple of black and blue ones, although he didn’t wear the blue ones often. His shirt tonight was a crisp, starched white as if he had just put it on fresh from the cleaners. The cufflinks sticking out of his jacket sleeve were polished platinum and embossed with a symbol I didn’t recognize. They reflected the candlelight throughout the room.

He always greeted Mum first, passionately kissing her and telling her how much he missed her and would need her upstairs after dinner to discuss business. Mum never worked, so I never understood what business they could possibly discuss. Then, he would greet me and comment on my shiny black hair and beauty. Daddy always made me feel good with his constant compliments. He always greeted my brother last, kneeling on one knee and telling him how proud he was of my brother. Everyone knew that as the heir, my brother would be the next to sit at the head of the table. Then Daddy would sit down, and the serving staff would enter with our dinner. After a toast to the family, we ate, filling him in on how our day went.

As dinner ended, Daddy excused my brother and me from the table. Mum left shortly after that while Dad remained behind to enjoy an after-dinner drink. When he finished it, which took a while as he seemed to savor every sip on his tongue, he joined Mum in their bedroom suite.

My curiosity forced me to watch him several times out of sight. He would sit there, quietly drinking. The look on his face showed he was contemplating, and soon, a twisted smile would wash over his face. I could almost see his thoughts churning as he rose from his seat. I hurried to my room.

One day and again many times afterward and against my better judgment, I waited out of sight until he joined Mum in their bedroom suite. I’d creep and listen quietly at the door to their suite. I didn’t understand what I heard, but it intrigued me.

Chapter Two

LEAVING HER HUSBAND behind in the dining room, Genevieve bounced up the stairs to their bedroom. The suite